Cut It Down
by ZombieDinosaur
Summary: WARNING: Some strong language! Set between 3x10 and 3x11, the group struggles as they try to repair themselves after The Governor's first attack. A potential threat in the group forces Rick into a tough decision. All the while, everyone is still trying to survive and mend themselves after another death hits the group. *SPOILERS* One-shot!


Cut it Down

**I am in no way religious. I feel that it's kind of baffling that a deity requires attention. But, that's not why I quote the Bible. Although religiously I don't agree with it, poetically and for this story's sake, it works so well. This is a one shot. Meaning there's no sequel, no spin off. But this is a teaser for a fan made fourth season of The Walking Dead that will be coming your way this summer. I just wanted to find out if I could write anything remotely like the episodes in The Walking Dead. Please review and be on the lookout for the fourth season coming this summer. Also, I'll be making a novelization of the first three seasons over the next couple months (or years) so lookout for that too! This is almost a lost episode in between Home and I Ain't A Judas. I noticed this last week that a whole day goes by. This is that day. **

The shambling corpse walked on through the afternoon sun. The once living male figure now looked stoned and dazed in the apocalyptic sun. The world was still there. Nothing really changed environmentally. But something changed. Humanity changed. For better or worse is still unclear. Does anyone really know or care anymore? When the dead started walking, people's lives changed drastically. The corpse that walked along now could've been a doctor. Maybe a lawyer or a teacher. Or a fucking homeless person. It didn't matter who they were. Not anymore and especially not to the man who stood behind the metal wired fence and strong iron gate. His short brown hair and stubble of a beard were dominant from a distance as he raised his crossbow to the corpse. He lined the sight with his eye and fired a single bolt into the dead man's head. The figure froze for a minute as if its last millisecond of thought, if it thought at all, was processing the bolt in its head.

Daryl Dixon wondered if it hurt if they died again. He stood there and watched as the zombie fell to the ground face first. The bolt poking out the back of the skull as the force of the ground pushed it further through the brain. Daryl wondered if it was worth retrieving at this point. He raised the crossbow again and aimed it at another corpse that occupied the prison courtyard. _Gonna have to be done sooner or later_, he thought to himself. Only minutes before, Daryl watched his home get destroyed by a man who almost had him killed. He scoffed at the idea. He knew the moment he saw Merle that the two of them would find a way out of that mess. That was nearly three days ago. And here he was busting down the fences and unloading a horde of walkers, that's what the group had decided to call the shambling corpses, into their sanctuary. He pulled another bolt from the holder under the weapon and reloaded the crossbow. He heard a door close behind him. He turned his head and saw a short-haired woman walk out. He recognized her and he turned back to the walkers. Aiming again, he shot another bolt into the skull of a zombie. The woman, cross-armed and looking terrified, approached Daryl. She sighed as she watched the zombie fall to the ground.

"You lookin' for something?" Daryl asked. The woman didn't make eye contact but she addressed him.

"Someone. I thought I'd find you out here," said Carol. "Can't tell you how much I missed you."

"Where's Merle?" Daryl asked preparing another bolt.

"Rick's talking to him. From what I hear they're going to let him stay for now," said Carol.

"For now. There is no for now. Either he's here or he ain't. Wish you people would just decide," said Daryl.

"Don't go back in the dark, Daryl," she said. She watched as he fired another bolt. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because…it's gotta be done sometime," said Daryl. Carol looked out to the trees.

"The Governor just attacked this place. Rick didn't want anyone out here. What if he comes back?" asked Carol.

"Then I'll put an arrow in his ass," said Daryl. "Teach him to mess with us."

Carol sighed and turned to go back inside. Daryl began to reload the crossbow. He was down to his last bolt. He would recollect the bolts when he decided to. That was his philosophy, at least before Rick and the group. After the long winter.

"Just don't forget about us. Merle your family…but so are we," Carol added as she opened the prison door again. Daryl lowered his gun and watched as the walkers lumbered on like bees around their hive. He sighed

…

Rick Grimes slammed the cell door behind him as he looked at the dark, greying-haired man. He had a history with this man. He was the reason why this man only had one hand. But it was because of this man and his brother that he is alive right now. He honestly didn't know what to say. A million things were going through his mind. He decided to start off simple.

"Thank you," said Rick. The man studied him for a minute and then responded in a raspy Southern voice.

"For saving your ass back there? You're welcome. My brother's idea," said the man.

"You and I have a history, Merle. One would say we're not compatible. I think that can change," said Rick, not moving from the cell door.

"You mean about that business in Atlanta…it's water under the bridge. Hell, that was almost a year ago. You'd be surprised how attached I've grown to this thing," said Merle with a smile as he raised the metal tube-like stump. On the end was a bloody and flesh covered knife.

"Glenn's not happy about you being here," said Rick.

"What about you, Officer Friendly? You happy to see my pretty face again?" he asked. "Where's the rest of y'all? Your deputy and the rest of 'em. Andrea told me that Dale's gone. T-Dog? Where's he at?"

Rick looked at him. He clenched his jaw tightly. He wasn't going to tell him.

"They're gone. Shane, Dale, Amy, T-Dog…my wife," said Rick. Merle's face immediately drops. He nods.

"It's not easy. But we carry on. Daryl and I…we lost our fair share of folks that we cared about. Good folks too. They don't deserve this. No one deserves this," said Merle. Rick nods. "I'm sorry to hear about your wife."

Rick looks at the man. Wondering if he has had a change of heart. Or if perhaps he has some human emotions buried deep down inside.

"We're gonna leave you in the cell for tonight. It's safe. Much safer than being out there in the woods. We'll let you keep your knife, but don't try anything. You're not really a favorite among this group," said Rick.

"I'm not a favorite among both y'all right now. You and The Governor," said Merle.

Rick nods again and turns to the cell door. The rusty door opens with a screech as the hollow man closes and locks it behind him. He then walks away.

Merle looks around the cell. It's not big, but it's not small either. It's perfect for him. For a night. He sits on the bed and looks up.

An African-American woman watches him with a hand on the samurai sword slung around her. Her blank expression tells Merle exactly what her feelings towards him are. _Alright, Michonne, _he thinks to himself, _you just stand there and try to intimidate me all you fucking want._ He just smiles at her.

…

The strong pre-teen boy gets a bowl of soup from the big pot in the prison's kitchen. He grabs a second one as he looks over at the young blonde haired woman caring for his newborn baby sister, Judith. He smiles as she motions the duck to the baby. Judith giggles as the woman puffs up her cheeks and makes weird sounds while playing with the duck. Carl smiles as he spills the hot soup on his hand. He mutters a curse and brings the bowls to the table where Judith and Beth are playing. She smiles as she sees Carl carrying the bowls. She puts Judith into her cardboard box, which is all that the group could find for a crib right now. But with all the blankets and little pillows and fabrics, it looked more like a small bed then a box. She puts the duck in there as well as Carl puts the bowl in front of her.

"Thought you could use something to eat," he said. Beth smiles as Carl hands her a spoon.

"Thank you," said Beth. Carl smiles back and begins eating. Beth does the same. Beth then frowns when as she looks away from the boy. She felt guilty for smiling. She thought back to her own mother. She remembered what she went through and was surprised Carl was taking it so well.

"What is it?" Carl asked. Beth smiled again.

"Nothing," she said. Judith began to cry. Beth stopped and picked up the baby. Rubbing her on the back and sshhing her to try and calm her down. Beth looked at Carl.

"She's hungry," said Beth. "She has a bottle back in the cellblock."

Carl nods and begins to get up. But he then sees another woman begin to approach.

"No. No. I'll take her, Beth. You and Carl get something to eat," said a southern belle-like voice. Beth saw that her older sister Maggie had come over and picked up the baby. "You need a break."

Maggie winks at Beth. Beth smiles.

…

The crutches of the old man lay still as Hershel sat on the bed. He began looking over a little black book. He looked up when he heard a knocking on the cell door. Rick was there.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Hershel motioned for him to enter.

"Glenn found this in one of the studies of the cellblocks a while back. He gave it to me just before he went out on guard duty. Can't tell you how comforting it is to hold this book in my hands again," said Hershel. Rick looks off in the distance.

"Yeah. I'll take your word for it," said Rick. "I need your help with something."

"I think we all need your help with something bigger…but I'll let you go first," said Hershel.

"It's about Merle. No one except Daryl is happy he's here. He was a prick back in Atlanta and it doesn't seem like much has changed. I can't just kick him out or we'll lose Daryl too. I just…I don't know what to do," said Rick.

'"You ever read Luke chapter 13 verses six through nine? I'm guessing you didn't. Jesus was with his disciples and he told them a parable. He said, "A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but didn't find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, 'For three years I've been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and have not found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?' And the man replied, 'Sir, leave it alone for one more year, and I'll dig around it and fertilize it. If it does not bear fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.'"

Rick looked at Hershel.

"You've been looking for fruit from a tree that doesn't have any, Rick. Give Merle a chance to prove himself. Then cut him down if he has nothing to prove," said Hershel.

"And Glenn? What do I tell him?" asked Rick.

"Tell him the truth. He won't like what he hears but he's been through a lot. He'll listen to you. That much is clear to him still," said Hershel. "Now…we have something much more pressing then Merle. What are we going to do about this Governor?"

Rick looked around the room slowly. He cranes his neck when he hears a soft sound of a whisper. He heard it. He knew it.

"Rick?" Hershel tries to real him back.

_Rick, _a soft whisper of a female voice forces Rick away from the world he is living. He closes his eyes.

"Rick!" Hershel yells. Rick's eyes snap open. He is startled by Hershel's shout but he's back. "Don't make us come and find you again. I know what you're dealing with but we need you. We're looking to you. Please. Help us."

Rick breathes heavily.

"I'll sleep on it," said Rick as he rises from the bed and quickly goes down the hall.

"Rick!" Hershel yells.

"I said I'll sleep on it!" Rick yells back.

Hershel closes his eyes and sighs. _Lord, please…we need strength. Give us that much, _he says in his mind. The setting sun casts an orange glow in Hershel's room.

Outside the fence and the prison in the forest that lines the perimeter. Tire tracks have cleared a path through some foliage that had grown across the road. On the right was a small Montmorency cherry tree has been knocked over. Broken and bruised, the tree will die. But on one of its branches is one solitaire red cherry. The only fruit the tree will produce in its short life.


End file.
